


Fortune's Fool

by callunavulgari



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/F, Female Peter Hale, Female Stiles Stilinski, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 08:55:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1171150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callunavulgari/pseuds/callunavulgari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re not a little girl, anymore, you know,” Peter purrs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fortune's Fool

**Author's Note:**

> I’m using [this](http://femslash100.livejournal.com/543986.html) prompt table, because it’s interesting. I really didn’t want to use any genderswitch at all this month if I could help it, but my mind kept coming back to my girl!Stiles when I was trying to think of who I’d use for the Fool, so I gave up on fighting it.

"Touch me," Stiles whispers. She barely recognizes her own voice, thin and husky as it is, with Derek’s crazy aunt sucking bruises into her neck. Her body is trembling and anyone could tell her that this isn’t a good idea. She _knows that_ , because this is the same lady that Stiles set on fire in her sophomore year, the same lady who went on a revenge spree that resulted in the deaths of half a dozen people, including her niece. She likes to think that now that they’re all grown up, that means they’re better people, as if the years of teenage angst and drama have been magically washed away now that she can have a beer with her dad when she’s over watching football.

"Mmm," Petra—call me Peter, if you must, Petra was my great-grandmother—Hale hums, licking her way down Stiles’ chest, like that’s an answer at all. And maybe it is, because Peter takes a moment to lean back and pull the worn Captain America t-shirt over Stiles head so that she can lean right back in and tug a nipple between her teeth.

Stiles gasps shakily and throws her head back, hands going straight for Peter’s hair—winding it up in her fingers and tugging sharply. Peter lets out a little pleased sound and Stiles has no idea how she ended up here, on the couch in her very own living room with Peter in her lap. She can remember being sixteen and terrified perfectly clearly, as Peter Hale smiled at her with blood streaked down her chin, propped over Lydia’s motionless body, and purred, “Let’s go for a drive.”

Stiles remembers Peter offering her the bite, after the older woman had seemingly realized that Stiles wasn’t a complete loss. She remembers setting her on fire and she remembers watching her die at Derek’s hand. She remembers her coming _back_ , worming her way into Lydia’s head and mind-raping her so thoroughly that by the time she _did_ come back, Lydia was half crazy.

Stiles remembers everything that came after too, which is half the problem here, because while she’ll never forget the ways that Peter had played them like they were chess pieces over the years, she’s also not soon going to forget that first night the other woman snuck in through Stiles window—how she’d stuffed her knuckles into Stiles mouth for her to bite bloody as she was licking Stiles open. She isn’t going to forget those early days of _dirty-bad-wrong_ that was so fucked up it somehow got mixed up and landed back on right.

There had been sex and emotions and a probably unhealthy reaction to getting slammed into walls… and then Stiles had left.

"You’re not a little girl, anymore, you know," Peter purrs from between Stiles’ tits. She’s grinning, a hint of fang a centimeter away from snagging on Stiles’ oldest, most comfortable bra, and Stiles doesn’t give half a shit, because that look is almost sane. That’s the look of someone who’s trying to build themselves back from the ground up and if Stiles knows _anything_ , she knows that Peter is too proud, and would never do something as simple as ask for help. No, she’d show up unannounced on Stiles’ doorstep five years down the road and jump straight to the sex, like the intervening years didn’t mean a damn. And if that isn’t a cry for help, Stiles doesn’t know what is.

"No," Stiles shrugs, returning the grin easily. "I’m not."


End file.
